The Fall
by Natural Born Sinner
Summary: What's dead is dead, and there's no coming back once a vampire meets their end. But those rules no longer apply, as those that should have been permanently erased from this earth are coming back with only one thing in mind: to kill.
1. Chapter 1

Steve Newlin was dead. He had to be; the only thing the vampire had left was a consciousness full of rage and memories that continually played in his head. It was torture, worse than anything they had done to him in that death camp, to float in the hazy grey space without the ability to move or speak. The only thing Steve was capable of doing was watching himself die over and over again at the hands of one Eric Northman.

The hatred alone that he felt could have been enough to bring him back to life, just to kill the vampire that had deemed him unfit to live. Who was he to decide that?

The tall blonde had held him just out of reach of the blood that would have kept him alive just like everyone else. While the sun had poured in through the open roof, bright and oh so hot, he was shocked to see Northman had not gone up in flames as he did. Eric's blood hadn't boiled under his skin, nor did his cells feel like they were imploding one by one within him. His skin hadn't shriveled and dried before bursting under the force of his blood spewing outward. His killer was fine, unscathed by the summer sun that was ultimately supposed to kill them all, but hadn't because of whatever magic Bill Compton possessed.

Magic that they were all granted a taste of. Everyone but him. All Steve could hear was the snarling as they ripped into Bill, gorging on his century's old body. Any inch of him that they could reach they drank from, sputtering as they raced to fill their bellies. It was almost worthy of amazement that Bill, his would be savior, had not dried up and become a husk of a man. Still, his killer had held him there while the seconds ticked by rapidly and Steve wondered how he hadn't died right along with him. Had Bill given him blood already? He doubted it; Northman seemed too proud to ask for help, but he wouldn't be above taking it by force. That seemed more like the conniving bastard.

While Eric blamed him for the death of his loved ones, Steve at least got the last laugh, and even now cherished the look on his bitch wife's face. Shouting up at the sun his declaration of love for Jason Stackhouse, he remembered clearly the look of disgusted confusion Sarah had given him. Steve would die a thousand more deaths if he could relive that moment each time, and even more if he'd been allowed to turn around to see Jason through the thick layer of glass to show him that not only was it his final act of spite, but the last truth he would ever utter before perishing.

The memories began slipping away from him, darkening as his limbs dissipated, fading away along with the last face he'd give anything to see again. He held onto the memory of the human that had captured his heart and swore that somehow he'd find a way back to his doorstep, no matter what it took.

* * *

Jason Stackhouse had arrested a total of three people this morning. The number would have been larger if the others hadn't turned tail and ran, but Jason hadn't even begun to consider his inability to catch them as a failure. He couldn't blame them for what they did; vampires were an enemy of the state, and even though he was told otherwise, Jason liked to believe they were all sick vampires. Every single one of them that had been bound in silver netting and tossed into the middle of an intersection, but he knew that was wrong.

Some of them, judging by the houses that had been broken into, were part of the buddy system Sam and Bill had set up for the town. Two of the possible dozens that had been killed were protectors of a small family of three that had been friends even before those vamps had been turned. It was a sad day and a tragic loss for some, but for Jason, it was just another Tuesday.

It pained him to see that this is what they had come to, all this senseless violence, and he wondered if things would have been the same even if the vampires hadn't come out of the coffin. Jason silently wished they hadn't, but knew that if they hadn't revealed themselves, he wouldn't have met Violet.

Jason cringed at the thought of her. She was good to him, he couldn't deny that; but when things were bad…they were bad. And she was part of the reason that he couldn't just let those people go. As much as he'd wanted to, murder was murder, and if Jason wanted the protection of a powerful vampire he would have to do her kind as little justice as he could these days. And that meant apprehending their human aggressors and trying his hardest to keep a handle on things.

Not many were willing to take on such a feat and would have given up once the murders reached a fever pitch, but Jason was never one to back down.

Nor was he one to deny himself a good meal.

* * *

Sookie looked on from the back as her brother marched through the front door of Bellefleur's. She didn't have to read his mind to be able to tell that something was wrong. His pinched face and lips that were set into a deep frown were all the indication she needed. Something was up with her brother and had been for some time after he'd returned from the vampire camp with Bill and the others. Jason's demeanor had changed, but then again, hadn't everyone's?

Bon Temps had gone to hell over the course of a few months and Sookie was surprised anyone even showed up to Bellefleur's anymore. The last shreds of normalcy had been taken from them after the first attack, their livelihood after the others that soon followed. A warm meal during the daylight hours was the last bit of comfort they could afford and it was only a matter of time before that would become a thing of the not so distant past.

As much as she had tried to stay out of his business—everyone's business, really—Jason was the only constant she had, and he was slipping away from her. For weeks he hadn't come around and never failed to find some excuse to avoid joining her and Alcide at home. So she turned to Lafayette, a dear friend of her and Jason for help in getting to the root of Jason's problem. She wouldn't lose her brother, not now after all that they'd been through together.

"Look at him." Sookie said, leaning against the wall near the window. Lafayette followed her gaze to the booth where Jason sat, staring blankly at the menu. He looked as though the life was being sucked from him. "Every time I see him, he's always got that same miserable look on his face. Jason's never like that."

The cook shook his head. "Poor thing looks like someone kicked his dog. What d'you think has him feeling worse than every motherfucker in here?"

"I don't know."

"You? The mind reader?" He scoffed. "If anything, I'd think you know exactly what was going on."

Sookie scowled. "Well I don't. How do you think we can help him? He won't stop by anymore. I've got no clue how to get him alone."

"You're a big girl. I'm sure you'll come up with a way to lure him over." Lafayette said, his eyes focused on the man in question. Whatever it was that had gotten him down, he hoped Sookie would help him get over it. He never thought he'd say it, but Jason was one of the more level-headed people in Bon Temps as of late. He'd done a lot to help everyone and to go off the deep end now would do no one good.

"Let me know when you figure somethin' out." He said after a moment and returned to the kitchen.

Sookie could be crafted when she wanted to be, and now was the time to devise something Jason couldn't pass up.

Jason sat with his head buried in his hands, listening to the hushed chatter of the other diners. He set the menu aside—a real waste it was, he knew what he wanted—and looked around, quietly speculating on who would be least likely to survive the next wave of attacks. The number of survivors was slowly thinning out. There were too many vampires that all seemed dead set on taking every last life in this town. How much had the people here sinned that they deserved this kind of hell?

While he thought of one version of Hell, another slid into the seat across from him. He didn't have to look her way to know exactly who it was. Jason could smell the bitterness in her blood from all the drugs she'd been taking, and the musk that seemed to emanate from her every pore. It was a sickening mix and Jason couldn't even begin to fathom what had brought her around now.

Crystal's pack of incest-born panthers was a lost cause, and whatever the tweaker thought he could possibly do for them, he couldn't, or rather he wouldn't. Still, his curiosity had gotten the better of him.

"What do you want?"

"Jason, we need your help." Crystal didn't bother to waste time dancing around the subject. She could have played coy, but the end times didn't allow for that. "Our people are sick, and with the world the way it is…we need someone strong around to take care of us, and protect us. You have an obligation to our pack, Jason. _Your_ pack."

Anger made his blood boil and he could feel his eyes beginning to change as he teetered on the edge of remaining human and shifting right there in the bar. Jason couldn't believe she had even managed to say the words with a straight face. Crystal and her pack had ruined him, taken his humanity away and given him something he never, ever wanted. Yet there she was, staring hopefully at him as if all was well between the two.

He still remembered the last time Crystal had shown her face around Bon Temps. It was on the eve of his first change, weeks after everything had begun to settle down following his experience at the camp. It was like he had come down with something—something terminal he had feared, as his body felt as though it were beginning to shut down.

The doctor had said it was the flu, but even Violet knew that was wrong. Both of them could tell it was something else, something that had taken over his system and made it their own. Jason recalled the aversion she had felt toward him for a short time, how horrid he had smelled and tasted to her. He was different, terribly different, and never had he felt so alone.

And that was when Crystal appeared, one evening during a slow shift. He had started to feel better, enough that he could manage to sit at his desk without passing out. It was a few hours past sundown and the temperature had dropped. The breeze had been a godsend then as he sat outside to escape the stale air tinged with sweat.

He saw her trek across the parking lot toward him, her eyes focused intently on his. Jason wanted to go back inside, lock the doors, and hide underneath his desk. The sight of her was utterly reviling and left a knot in his stomach.

She stood at the curb as if she could sense that he hadn't wanted her to come any closer. It was understandable; they had parted on bad terms, which even she knew was an understatement—a grand one—and respected his need for space.

"_What are you doing here? Shouldn't you be off kidnapping people and tying 'em up?" Jason asked. _

_Crystal cringed. "You know what I'm here for, Jason. It's happening."_

"_What is?" he coughed and clutched at his aching sides. _

"_You're changing. Becoming one of us."_

"_One of you? No." Jason shook his head. "That ain't possible. Only vampires can be turned."_

"_It's not up to you to decide what's possible or not. You will turn...it just takes a while since you don't have panther blood in you, but it'll happen."_

As much as he tried to deny it, the crazy woman was right. Not a few days later on the front lawn of his house, Jason collapsed onto the porch. His body writhed in pain, convulsing as his bones cracked and reformed. Tanned skin tore as he adjusted to the new shape, and watched helplessly as he made the first transition from man to monster. And just as she had been there to warn him of the impending change, she was there again, already shifted, waiting for him by the treeline.

He recalled little of that night but for the mix of horror and disgust he felt. Jason hated what he was, but there was no changing it now. He was stuck.

"I'm not doing it. I want nothing to do with you people, now if you could please get the hell away from me." Jason gestured to the front door, but Crystal hadn't budged.

"You're making a mistake, Jason, turning your back on your kind."

"You aren't my kind." Jason growled. "Now leave."

_Psycho bitch_, he thought.

Crystal hesitated but finally left, rushing out of the booth as Sookie approached the two. The panther pushed her out of the way, directing her anger at the oblivious sibling which did nothing to quell her growing uneasiness regarding Jason's affairs. Sookie leaned into the side of the booth across from her brother and casually approached the situation.

"What was that all about?"

Jason shrugged. "Who knows? She's all hopped up on something, couldn't tell what the heck she was ramblin' on about. Told her to go get some rest."

There was more to it than that. She had seen the exchange, and while she couldn't hear what was said, their body language had suggested a more hostile conversation than Jason let on. Sookie decided not to press the issue; if she wanted Jason to come see her, it would be beneficial _not_ to have him angry at her for prying.

There was always time for that later when she got him alone, and if he chose not to be honest then, she had her ways of digging up the truth.

With his order taken, Sookie asked offhandedly before giving the ticket to Lafayette, "Hey, there's a problem with my sink and Alcide isn't around—he's got some job that took him upstate. Do you mind taking a look in the meantime for me?"

"Sure, Sook."

She hadn't expected him to concede that easily and almost questioned his answer. Jason hadn't said yes to much lately except going home and answering calls when another body was found. Sookie was happy despite the circumstance, getting to see her brother's face around the house again, even though she was sure that once he found out what he was really there for he'd be less than enthused.

Sookie smiled. "Great. I'll be right back with your food."

* * *

Jason trudged up the front stairs, ready to fix his sister's sink for the millionth time. The pipes were always broken; he wondered why she didn't have someone come out and replace the damned thing, but at least it gave him an excuse to get out of the station for a while. Jason was thankful for that much, though eventually another call would come in about another body being found and he'd have to run off again to view one of the many unrecognizable corpses.

"All in a day's work." he mumbled.

The door opened before he could raise his hand to knock. Sookie stood in the doorway, still in her work clothes, and smiled warmly before stepping aside to let her brother in. She watched as he paused awkwardly in the foyer, looking around as if this had been the first time he ever saw the house.

Jason hid his face from Sookie while he sniffed at the air. There was someone else in the house with them and after a moment he realized who it was.

"What's Lafayette doing here?"

Sookie's eyes widened, momentarily forgetting she wasn't the only gifted one in the family anymore.

"He's just stopping by. Why don't you sit with us for a minute before you get to work?" she asked. "Just relax. I know you've been working hard."

Jason Stackhouse may not have been the brightest bulb in the pack, but he was smart enough to know when something was up. His sister seemed terribly uneasy and rarely did he ever see her so nervous. For the time being, he thought it best to placate her and find out just what the hell was going on.

"Alright then." Jason shrugged and followed her into the living room and sat down across from Lafayette on one of the arm chairs. In truth, he would have much rather been sprawled out on one of the couches.

As much as he hated to admit it, the vampire sleep cycle was taking a toll on his body. No matter how much blood Violet gave him it could never make up for what his body craved. Jason needed sleep, food, and as he settled into the chair, realized he needed this too.

His family. His friends.

Jason had been away from them for far too long, and while he didn't think anyone could blame him—after all, recent events hadn't exactly left anyone able to carry out normal activities—part of him still felt bad.

Violet and all of the vampire bullshit that followed after his stint at the camp had driven a wedge between the siblings, and sucked the life out of him. Surely he wasn't the only one who noticed he'd been a bit off, and judging by the pitiful stares they were giving him right now, he was correct.

"You gonna say anything, or just stare at me like I got five heads?" Jason asked, trying to keep his tone light. He didn't feel comfortable with them watching him, evidenced by the way he shifted around in the seat. The will couldn't be found for him to remain still and with each restless movement, the floorboards creaked beneath him, filling the quiet space with the less than pleasant sound.

Sookie thought about the best way to approach him. She could ease into it and hope by the time that they had reached the subject Jason would be comfortable enough to disclose anything that he may have been keeping from her. Or, she could take the more straightforward route and not pull any punches. The fairy had spent the better part of her shift since she'd bumped into Jason that afternoon wondering about this. The choice didn't come easy, but she made her decision.

"We're worried about you, Jason." Lafayette nodded beside Sookie as she spoke. "You haven't been acting like yourself at all. Is there something wrong?"

"No, there isn't." Jason said. "Work's just getting to me."

The answer he gave his sister was simple, but what had been tearing him up was more complex than work troubles. If anyone had really taken the time to give the young officer more than just a cursory glance, they could see that his issues ran much deeper. Jason felt run down mentally and physically, and the emotional toll his relationship had taken on him he couldn't find the words to describe.

But what he could find the words for is how close he was to losing it. Jason had reached his breaking point and was one more night with his vampire lover away from finally cracking.

Violet was great in the beginning. Old and interesting, and smarter than he'd ever be. Months down the line he realized the full extent of her possessiveness when she began isolating him from the rest of the world. Heaven forbid he mentioned anyone else or his desire to be in their company, be it woman or man, the anger she exhibited was unlike anything he'd ever seen. In those times she was no stranger to using physical means to get her point across and threatening the lives of those he formerly called friends. To be himself was something he'd never again be able to do and was far from worth fighting for. He lost every time.

The thought of freeing himself from the vampire's hold often came, and he wasn't sure how he could pull off such a thing. If he ever mentioned that he wanted to go their separate ways, she'd glamour him before he could even finish his sentence. Jason would forget about his grievances and Violet would get to keep him for another day. It was just how things worked now.

The only other option he had was killing her, but Jason didn't have the balls to do it. He couldn't even finish off Newlin's wife, who had gotten him into this mess in the first place.

Jason looked up at Sookie, soon realizing that neither of them had said a word in the past several minutes. He'd been mulling over killing Violet while the telepath sat directly across from him, most likely well aware of the turmoil in his head. Jason had no doubt she had been listening in; Sookie couldn't resist, she never could, and he wondered if she had heard everything. If she had, she was doing a damn good job of hiding it. Her face was blank and as far as he could tell, her pulse hadn't jumped. She was still calm, still staring at him with that condescending face.

_As if all her shit was together. _

"I need a drink. Either of you want a beer?" Jason jumped up from his seat, unable to sit still. He needed to move, to get away from the two of them. He understood that their hearts were in the right place, and God bless them for caring enough to do this. But sitting there under close watch was stifling. Jason felt like a kid that had been called to the principal's office and all he could do was sit and squirm while they waited for an explanation for his bad behavior.

He certainly had one. It just wasn't worth giving.

"I could use a drink." Lafayette said. "Something stronger than beer would be nice, but shit, I'll take it."

Jason rushed out of the room without another word and made his way to the fridge. He found the six pack on the top shelf and twisted the cap off. Jason grimaced at the slightly warm alcohol; Sookie had to have bought it on the way home, but that hadn't stopped him from sucking down half of its contents before remembering Violet didn't like it when he drank. It made his blood taste bad, but in that moment, he couldn't have given less of a fuck.

Jason had to do something to fix the mess he was in. He didn't know what, but he'd figure it out. He always did.

He watched from the doorway as they spoke in hushed voices, watching the way their lips twisted with each word they uttered. Just as he turned away to grab another from the fridge for Lafayette, the pair rose and joined Jason in the kitchen.

Sookie had heard everything that went through Jason's mind. Of course she had. There was no way in hell she could have held back, not when her brother's well-being was compromised. She felt nothing but sympathy for her brother who faced a situation she had been in not long ago. Sookie didn't want that life for him. Her brother was a good person. He didn't deserve this.

Vampire blood, while it had its uses, was an awful thing. She was determined to make Jason see he had a way out of this.

"I know you think you love Violet..."

Jason groaned. "God dammit, Sookie."

"Look, I know better than anyone what the blood does. Think about what I had with Bill; I thought I loved him. I didn't. He'd only tricked my mind into thinking everything we had was genuine. It traps you and binds you to something that would only kill you in the end."

Jason slammed the beer down on the table with enough force that the glass should have broken in his palm. "One way or another a vampire is gonna kill me. They're gonna kill all of us. So what does it matter?"

"She's already killing you." Lafayette spoke up for the first time since he'd gotten there. "And you know it."

Jason's cellphone rang, startling the three of them. He pulled the phone from his pocket and read the short message.

"Shit." He muttered and ran a hand through his hair. "I gotta go. We'll…we'll talk later, I promise."

Jason didn't wait for a response and excused himself. He paused at the top of the stairs and leaned into the bannister. The sun was hovering over the horizon and in an hour's time, the threat none of them wanted to face would rear its ugly head and bare its fangs. Bon Temps latest crime scene would no doubt attract a horde of vampires if it wasn't cleared before night fall. Jason ran to his truck and climbed into the driver's seat, slumping his body over the wheel.

Everything his sister had said was right. He knew the blood was the only thing keeping him around this long. The only good thing Violet did was keep him safe and that calmed his mind some, but how long could he trade happiness for safety? For the comfort of his friends, his family? Violet was selfish. Jess would never do this to him.

Jason froze and immediately began thinking of everything but the redhead. Anything to muddy her image, for he feared that Violet would somehow figure out he thought of someone but her. Jason tried his hardest to push her name to the back of his mind where it now belonged.

As his arms dropped down to his sides, his hand grazed the cool metal of the gun holstered at his waist. For a moment, in the throes of his hopelessness, Jason considered ending it all. He could do so easily.

But Jason Stackhouse was never one to give up.


	2. Chapter 2

**Thanks for the reviews, and the favorites/follows. I really appreciate it! Enjoy!**

* * *

In truth, Steve Newlin wouldn't have minded being naked, vulnerable, and flat on his back had there been a hunk of a man filling the empty space above him. That hunk being Jason Stackhouse, of course. Sadly, for Newlin that wasn't the case. All that covered his body were the blinding rays of the hot sun, the sun that had once meant danger and now—he realized, after failing to combust—served only as a source of warmth.

Steve laughed aloud, eyes searching for someone to share this revelatory moment with, but the vampire soon realized he was alone. His only company was the sprawling expanse of lush, green grass; the hills that climbed toward the cloudless sky, and the trees reaching up toward the sun, just as eager as he was to bask in its light, and he did just that. Not since the time before vampires had made themselves known had Steve felt this kind of peace. A loud sigh escaped the young man while he stretched his pale limbs and nestled into the grass. Minutes passed and he was sure he'd melt right into the ground and become one with the earth. The feeling was magical, and he prayed to God—sweet, sweet God—that this bliss would be never ending.

It came hard and fast, like love, or an upset stomach after eating too much fast food. Steve was glad he was already lying down, though curling into a ball on his side was no easy feat. He struggled to turn himself over, flopping on his back several times onto the grass that now felt like needles on his burning skin. The pain began in his gums, throbbing behind his fangs and spread slowly through every muscle, engulfing them in an invisible flame that burned him to the core.

Steve felt like he was dying all over again, his smooth skin turned taught and dry, bones brittle beneath his twitching muscles. He waited for the inevitable rupturing of his frame, to burst and leave nothing behind but a Steve Newlin shaped stain on the ground.

"This isn't Heaven." He cried pitifully into the dirt. "This is Hell; a cruel trick played on me by the Devil."

"Hell for one, but not for all."

Newlin smelled the blood before he registered the voice, fangs extending as he rolled onto his back and stared up. His eyes quickly scanned the feminine form, doused in red, and focused on her face. She held a sense of familiarity about her and it took a moment before he realized who the stranger was.

"Lilith." Steve all but whispered. The first time he encountered the elder vampire she was nothing more than a figment of his imagination, manifested in a drug induced haze. Yet here she was again, though now he was in a right state of mind. Or so he thought.

Pain had a funny way of affecting the body.

His hand reached out to touch her, finger tips lazily grazing the top of her foot. "You look so real. Are you? What is this place?" he found himself full of questions then.

"Eden." She said simply. "If I were the one to decide your fate, you would not be here. A vampire such as yourself is not fit for a Heaven like this."

Lilith was far from wrong. Steve had made himself an enemy of the vampire race as human, and after his turning, had done little—if anything—to improve upon his image. His acts were the reason he found himself here, in this afterlife, instead of on earth alongside the rest of the survivors from Sarah's death camp. He swallowed hard; would Lilith make this his own Hell? Or was there a way he could redeem himself in the progenitor's eyes?

His panicked mind conjured visions of endless torture and isolation, the denial of partaking in the pleasures the vampire haven would surely have. Steve knew there were others, and if all vampires found their way here in the end…he wondered if the enemies he made would find him first. The brutality he'd face at their hands, eternal violence…he shook the thought from his head.

Whenever he found the strength to move, he would need to remind himself not to wander too far; the fringes were his safest bet.

"You're going to punish me, aren't you? For all the things I've done? I don't blame you if you do, I deserve it, but—"

"It is not my job to punish you, nor will I waste my time on someone like you." Lilith said. "Come; you need to feed."

Steve's brows pinched together in confusion. He was dead—really dead this time—and as far as he knew, what was dead required no sustenance. Earthly needs and desires were beyond him now, as well as all of the vampires here. Steve believed they were truly immortal.

"Why do I need to feed? I'm a ghost. I'm…nothing. Nothing needs nothing to live." Steve said.

"You do not need it to live, but the blood that flows here in Eden is a gift from God himself. It is unlike anything you'd find on earth—"

"Better than fairy blood?" Steve asked. He wasn't sure there was such a thing.

She narrowed her eyes. "Yes, far better than that. Come with me now, we'll ease your pain."

Against his better judgment he tailed the contempt riddled she-devil. Lilith glistened in the light, radiating a macabre sort of beauty as the blood shimmered on her skin, encasing her in a warm glow. She was the fire and he the fly, wholly intrigued with what he knew would only harm him in the end, inching ever closer and waiting for the burn.

He knew he shouldn't trust her, shouldn't be blindly following her about like a puppy in unknown territory, but what other choice did he have? Lilith was the closest thing to God and if he wanted to make things right, ensure that the rest of his time would be spent in relative comfort, the risk was worth it.

In silence they walked across the field in no particular direction at all, taking turns every so often toward nothing. There were no visible markers; no trees, no roads, not even a damned sign to tell him where they were going.

Then, as his frustration began to mount at their pointless journey, a courtyard came into view. The area was encased by tall hedges, like prison walls, keeping in Eden's cattle. He peered ahead, watching the nude bodies that populated the square shuffle in circles, weaving around one another effortlessly though their heads were pointed toward the ground.

Steve slowed, eyeing them cautiously. "What's wrong with them?"

Lilith paused at the edge of the courtyard. "In their waking life, these humans were guilty of transgressions against our race. As punishment, they are prisoners in their own bodies. They can think, and feel, but cannot speak, nor will they die when their blood has been drained."

He felt a sudden chill in his bones. This could have very well been his fate if he had not been turned, spending the rest of eternity as an undying shell with a limitless supply of blood. Steve had read the bible front to back more times than he could count. He knew of all the punishments he'd receive if he fucked up, but the book spoke nothing of this.

_Eden _was Hell in disguise, and he was one of its many devils.

They walked along the stone path toward a row of benches, crafted from white marble. Cut into the stone was the long, detailed form of a serpent, winding around the back of the bench. The head jut from the arm of the bench, mouth open wide and bearing its long fangs.

Steve groaned as the breeze carried with it the scent of the life force that coursed within them. He hadn't realized how hungry he was, or long it had been since he truly fed. It was long before arriving at the camp. The TruBlood did little, if anything, to satiate his thirst and once the bottles had been tainted there was no hope of feeding at all.

Steve's fingers curled, digging into his palm as he struggled against the urge to reach out and claim one of the bodies as his own. To sink his fangs into their pulsing veins and drink deeply.

Lilith only encouraged him. "Drink. They are yours to ravage."

As fast as his body would allow, Steve lurched forward and grabbed a young woman by the throat. He could feel the skip of her heart under his thumb, racing while he pulled her down to the ground. Steve tore into her throat and tasted the first drops, swirling the red on his tongue, savoring the flavor.

Steve ate like a king, gorging on the blood until his stomach became bloated and a familiar drowsiness set in.

"God, this is like Thanksgiving; a good ol' turkey coma." Steve wiped blood from his chin and eyed the young girl. She hadn't moved once during his feeding. It was like he was feeding from someone in a coma. The thought made it feel wrong, but the blood was far too good to care.

The barest hint of a smile curved her lips. "For now, this world is yours to explore. If you wish to retain your cognizance and not devolve into another vessel to be ripped apart and drained, keep away from the north. When you've regained your strength, we'll meet again, Steven."

Lilith stared past him for a moment, an unreadable expression on her face. She turned away from him then and Steve watched as she left bloody footprints behind on the light stone. The blood dried and rose into the air, thousands of red specks spiraling toward the sun and disappearing completely.

"You made a grave mistake drinking the blood. It's poison."

Steve spun on his heel toward the newcomer, body braced for an attack he silently prayed would not come. While the blood lessened the ache, he wasn't sure his body could handle much more trauma. His fangs dropped while he spoke. "Who the hell are you?"

"My name is Warlow."


	3. Chapter 3

Every inch the beast covered, its belly low to the ground, the foliage withered and died. Tall blades of grass yellowed and dipped toward the earth as it crept forward, now revealed to the ever watchful wildlife in the trees above. The black birds chirped their warning from their perches, nestled high in the branches away from danger. Amber eyes turned on the birds and having been discovered, they took to the skies with a final squawk that echoed overhead.

Rough antlers jut from the bushes ahead, bobbing in and out of cover. The deer had been there for several minutes picking away at the plentiful berries, oblivious to the predator that lurked just a few yards away, hiding in the shadows. It was much larger than the beast, but its confidence soared, as did the lust for blood that coursed through every fiber of his being. It made his heart pump wildly in his chest, much like the blood he could hear running through the deer's veins. The sound was deafening, but he loved it.

Jason Stackhouse had never felt so alive.

Barely containing the surge of energy, he charged across the clearing toward the buck, salivating as he neared it. His teeth were aching, and if they could beg he was sure they would, for he needed to rip into something. Tear it apart until there was nothing left.

Claws dug into the dirt as he ran, crashing through the brush and snarling as he raced behind the deer. It wailed and huffed as it fled from the panther, fighting hard to escape what would be a painful end. Just as Jason readied himself to spring forward, a loud voice sounded in his ears. Startled, he stumbled across the ground and rolled to his feet.

He was certain he heard the voice; whatever, or whoever, it was had called his name. It was sharp in tone, like a reprimand, something meant to grab his attention. And the voice had, but even with his sharpened vision, he couldn't find the source. His eyes scanned the tree line for the disembodied voice, finding nothing that could have spoken his name. Jason found he was alone but for the animals and resumed his hunt. If anything had joined him here in the woods, he would find it eventually.

For now, he would catch up with his prey.

Jason trudged onward, his eyes following the imprints left behind in the wet dirt that lead him into a denser portion of the woods. The forest canopy left the area encased in shadow, better hiding his dark frame than the wilted shrubs dotting the landscape. He slipped through the tightly packed trees, yowling in pain as his skin snagged on thorny branches and tread the rest of the way carefully.

The claustrophobic woods opened finally into a clearing where the morning sun poured in. Bright light showed all his paws had not yet touched, and as such, had not yet killed. The colors were much more vibrant in the clearing than where he was standing, as even the inky black of his coat began to appear dull. Jason was hesitant to destroy what was left of the forest, the only remaining beauty he had found in this decaying world.

He abandoned the thought of preserving the small sanctuary as the buck leapt into view, bounding through the clearing to stop directly in the center. The deer eyed him cautiously, its dark orbs locking with Jason's own as he took small steps into the open space. His prey held its ground, stomping its hooves and snorting as he came near. Jason circled the animal and listened to its quickened heartbeat; if he didn't move fast, the deer would flee.

Jason sprang forward and sank his claws deep into the tough thigh. He pulled the buck down to the ground in a writhing heap and listened to its pitiful cries. Jason tore at the muscle and shred the bloody strands, pulling them away piece by piece until the bone was exposed. Blood flowed like rushing water into his mouth and dripped down the sides of his maw, matting the fur on his face and neck. The deer thrashed as Jason hovered over it, making its final fruitless attempts at escape.

Sharp teeth tore through the tan fur as Jason settled beside the dead deer, eating away at the meat he earned. Never had anything he consumed tasted as well as what he had hunted—nothing Lafayette had ever made at the bar, not even his Gran's cooking could compare. The meat was grassy and sweet, fresher than the freezer-burned blocks he bought for himself at the store.

But like all good things, nothing lasts forever.

The sweetness faded and in its place came a rancid taste that seeped into his gums and coated his tongue. Jason backed away in revulsion and gagged as the meat forced its way back up his throat and spewed violently onto the dirt.

He shifted then and braced his hands on his thighs as he wretched, cursing and heaving until the contents of his stomach were splattered around his feet. Jason glanced back at the deer and watched as its skin shriveled, the trickling blood becoming thick and dark.

"Jesus." Jason muttered, backing away from the rotting corpse.

The metallic stench of fresh blood washed over him and overpowered the putrid smell. Jason spun on his heel and gasped.

A red mist swirled up from the ground and spiraled around thin red lines of the same color. Thousands of the vine-like objects stretched toward the sky. His eyes fixated on them, staring as the tangled vines spread and melded together.

He wanted to flee from here like the deer he had slaughtered not moments ago, but his feet were rooted into the ground. No amount of silent urging could have made his muscles propel him in the opposite direction. Jason had no control. Though, he found himself unafraid.

The red had come together to form the outline of a body, red mist filling the empty spaces of the crimson husk. A faceless head focused on Jason, and he stared at the featureless face. There was nothing to distinguish who or what it was, but deep down Jason knew in his gut who was standing before him.

_Jason. _

"Yeah?" he said quietly.

_You have a gift now; make use of it. The other side of you is nothing to be ashamed of. _

The words were clear yet muffled all the same, and Jason felt like he was underwater, listening to the garbled speech of someone on the surface.

"What gift?"

_You're a Were, Jason. There is no need to hide it. Your animal will keep you safe in the coming days…I will keep you safe._

"What…" Jason trailed off. He watched while the being outstretched its arms and began walking toward him.

It hovered over the dirt while it moved in his direction, gliding on the dark vapor that surrounded the body. Jason began trembling; the urge to shift had become unbearable, his bones aching with the need to abandon his human frame. Muscles coiled beneath his tanned skin, stretching and tearing as his body began taking on its new shape.

Jason pitched forward, changing before he hit the ground. The creature shrouded him in its vaporous veil, slicking his fur with a red sheen he couldn't shake off. All he could smell was the blood. As the mist traveled up his nostrils, he smelled more than just the iron, but a clean, crisp scent. S_omeone's _scent.

The creature beckoned him forward and Jason obliged, immersing himself fully in the wonderful aroma that emanated from it and the blood that flowed freely. His heart beat wildly in his chest as the blood covered him, the fluid wrapping around his chest and back. It felt like there were hands on him, raking through his fur and clutching at his muscles. He pushed into the touch, relishing the feeling until the grip grew tighter on his throat and he struggled to breathe. Jason writhed and flailed as the air was forced from his lungs. Spots dotted his vision, blurring the figure that stood over him. Faintly he could hear his name being called, and this time it sounded different. Harsher and urgent in tone.

Then everything went black.

Jason's eyes snapped open as he felt the familiar sharp sting of fangs breaking through the skin on his neck. Jason instinctively reached for the gun at his waist—always filled with wooden bullets now—and waved the weapon around the room blindly. He quickly found himself disarmed and flipped on his stomach, face pressed into the rough material of his living room couch.

Violet squeezed his wrist. "Relax, Jason, it's only me. You wouldn't wake up no matter how many times I called your name." When she heard his heart begin to slow and his breathing even out, Violet released him from her hold.

"Yeah…sorry about that. Just had a really, really weird dream." Jason mumbled. He hadn't been able to sleep, and whenever he did manage to—when his body could not take being awake any longer—the nightmares plagued him. This had been the third time now, he realized, that he had this dream.

Each time it felt more real than the last. Even now he felt like there was blood all over his skin, all the red vines clinging to him, pulling him…Jason shuddered at the thought and rolled over onto his back. He looked past Violet at the black curtains they had put up a little more than a week ago to keep the sun out. They were pulled back slightly, the sun poking through the small slit, giving Jason an opportunity to safely escape the house.

He slid out from underneath Violet's weight and grabbed his uniform shirt off the coffee table. It was the only thing he remembered taking off before passing out the night before and he was happy for his momentary laziness.

_Anything to get out quicker._

With his phone in his pocket and a half formed excuse delivered to his vampire partner, Jason stepped out into the sunlight, purposely swinging the door open a little wider than usual to let the light shine in.

. . .

"Why me?" Jason asked aloud, talking to himself quietly while he drove. He sped down back roads, taking turns whenever he saw fit. He had no idea where he was going, and realized that he didn't care.

He failed to understand the meaning of the dream, if there even was one, but why else would he be having it so often? Jason hated how good it felt to be an animal, and he knew at one point he would need to stop neglecting that part of himself. No matter how much he hated it, the longer he put off shifting the more his body hurt, and the chance of shifting spontaneously grew higher.

And with how panicked everyone was, and how hateful they had become of anything nonhuman, if that happened in public…Jason would be a great, big, feline target.

A high pitched ringing filled the truck, and Jason reached over to grab his phone from the cup holder. The device slipped from his fingers and rolled onto the floor on the passenger's side, and despite knowing better, Jason kept his foot on the gas while he pawed at the floor and finally got a grip on the phone. He peeked briefly at the display.

"Sook…oh shit—" Jason swerved to the right, his truck crashing into an overflowing dumpster. He dropped the phone on the seat and got out, slamming the door as he neared what obstructed his path and nearly killed him.

A large buck poised in the middle of the dirt road, staring at him with cold, dark eyes. The deer huffed as he came closer, and Jason noticed the faint scars that littered its body. They started at the thigh and traveled along its side, stopping over the deer's ribs.

Jason locked eyes with the animal. "You again."

. . .

Sookie Stackhouse was nervous. Her brother had missed four of her calls, and now, as she stuffed her phone back into her pocket, Jason had missed another.

"Where the hell are you?" Sookie sighed.

"Something wrong?" Sam rounded the corner and leaned into the bar across from Sookie, his brows pinched together as he sensed the distress she felt.

She shook her head. "No, I just haven't heard from Jason. He won't return any of my calls."

"Oh, and you're worried about him?" Sam asked. "Jason's more than capable of handling himself. Besides, we got more than enough time until the sun goes down. He'll be fine, Sookie."

"Yeah, I guess you're right. He's all I got left, you know?" she said, a small frown tugging the corners of her lips down. "It's too dangerous to be out alone, even in the daylight."

Sam nodded, knowing full well that there was a lot more than just vampires they needed to worry about. Supes of all kinds, not to mention humans, were all too willing to turn on each other now.

"Well, I'm sure if he gets into any trouble, he's got a few tricks up his sleeve. He'll make it back home." It wasn't hard to tell what Jason had become, and he remembered how hard it had been to place the smell. Were-panthers were rare, and it was bad enough it had been those inbred drug addicts that turned him. Jason Stackhouse got the shitty end of the stick when it came to his _gift_.

"If you want, I can help you find him. Shouldn't be hard with all the towns around here emptied out."

"It's fine…thank you though, Sam. If it gets too late, does the offer still stand?" Sookie hoped her brother wouldn't be gone that long. The infected vampires may have been weaker, but there were far too many of them to fight off alone. Sam was right that he could take care of himself, but one person could only do so much on their own.

He nodded. "Of course it does, and maybe that boyfriend of yours can join us. Two noses are better than one."

. . .

"Are we eating in tonight? Or are we still going out?" Alcide called from downstairs. There were two hours until the sun was gone and if there was any hope of leaving the house, they would need to do it soon. Only now, Sookie was preoccupied and indecisive. The Were understood—he'd be worried too if his own family had up and disappeared now.

"We could still go out, but I'm not sure what's open now. Besides Bellefleur's." Sookie added. She'd give her right arm to avoid going back there. As much as she loved Arlene and the rest of her coworkers, the patrons were nothing less than hostile. If they didn't outright call her a freak, they'd sure as shit think it, and Sookie couldn't decide which one was worse.

"We don't have to go anywhere, I'm fine staying here, especially if you're still waiting on Jason." His tone said that he was anything but fine.

They were both stressed at having been on an unofficial lockdown since the start of the attacks. Only recently did the pair try and venture out of Bon Temps, both eager for a change of scenery. And each time Alcide tried to convince her to leave. She'd be lying if she said the thought wasn't tempting; there was little to nothing keeping her here except for Jason, and her Gran's house was continuously losing its value. The house had become less of a home and more of a cage, and the longer she spent inside under Alcide's watchful eye, the smaller the space began to feel, and the more she wanted snap.

Sookie needed to break free. There was no denying anymore that she needed the danger, the risk that came with the nightlife. She couldn't pretend everything was A-Okay and hide indoors, praying nothing had wandered onto the property and smelled her special blood; ignoring the ever rising body count in and around town and turning a blind eye—that wasn't her.

She wanted to be out there, doing something. Before she lost anyone else.

In the meantime, what she had lost was track of time. The sun was just barely peeking over the horizon now and that meant the dead would soon be rising, if they weren't already creeping on the fringes, awaiting the total darkness.

Sookie was seated on the edge of the bed in her bathrobe, clothes splayed out on the mattress when the doorbell rang. She jumped and rushed to the window, hoping to see her brother's car parked in front of the house and slumped against the wall when nothing was there.

She listened closely as the door opened and heard nothing but harsh whispers and the deep growling sound Alcide made more than he spoke.

"Sookie." Alcide said. "Come down here."

Quietly, she tiptoed out of the bedroom and made her way to the top of the stairs to see who was there. Her breath caught in her throat at the sight of him.

"Eric. You're alive."


	4. Chapter 4

Steve hunched over the human, his fangs driven deep into the full veins. He drank voraciously, though his stomach was full to the point of bursting. The vampire would have stopped feeding if he could, if his body would allow for that. Only several hours after draining one of the many humans can he go without devouring one of them again, lest the pain return.

Steve thought of Warlow's words, how he told him that it was a grave mistake to drink the blood of those beings and only when he was in the throes of withdrawal did he consider that the older vampire may have been correct in saying so. But the blood was stronger than any warning he could have given, and Steve was more likely to heed the call of the blood than Warlow's advice.

Even now, as Warlow raged on in his cage several yards away, his words were all but an auditory blur; each syllable melded into the next, forming an incoherent stream of utterances that were the soundtrack to his tour of destruction in this little corner of the afterlife.

"Oh, will you shut up?"

Newlin would have been the first to admit his tendency to blather on just a bit too much at times, and that the words he shouted at the imprisoned vampire were hypocritical, but he couldn't stand to hear the man's voice. Steve dropped the body onto the grass and walked toward the cage, his step a little livelier than when he'd first arrived in Eden.

"If you'd just listen to me and quit sticking those teeth of yours into anything that moves, I wouldn't have to keep shouting." Warlow said. He gripped at the bars, rattling them as he spoke. "The more you drink the harder it will be to wean yourself off."

"Why would I want to wean myself off _that_? Are you crazy?" Steve asked.

"The blood isn't the manna of whatever god you believe in, it's a liquid vise, and it's got what little you have left of your soul gripped tight. What you've been drinking is meant to keep you here."

"I don't see the problem. This is the end for us," Steve waved his hands around. "This is our Heaven."

"_This _is a temporary holding cell. We're not meant to spend an eternity here, but if you keep drinking, you'll have no choice but to remain." Warlow said.

"Look, I get you're angry because they have you locked up in a cage, but this isn't Hell for everyone. Except…maybe them," Steve shot a glance at the humans. "I get to walk in the sun again, drink the finest blood, and live out the rest of time without worrying about getting staked or put in some prison camp again. As far as I can tell, this is Heaven. For me at least, and I am sure as heck not gonna waste my time going on some hunger strike."

"You idiot," the hybrid pounded his fists against the bars. "I know you want to leave."

Steve walked around the perimeter of the cage, staring at Warlow as he spoke. The young vampire found himself unable to discern whether Warlow was imprisoned because he was a raving lunatic, or if there were truth to his words that someone didn't want getting out. Hiding him away definitely made it more difficult for the elder vampire to spread his message, though he had no doubt that anyone who heard it would be just as skeptical as he was.

Who would listen to the ramblings of a madman, let alone take them seriously? Steve wondered if his words were as poisonous as the blood he preached against, and he tried to shut them out, protect himself, but the last lines Warlow had spoken broke through.

"I don't know what you're talking about. I like it here." Steve said. "Said it a million times, and I don't know how many more it's gonna take before it sinks into that head of yours."

"Every human you've drank from looks the same. You've left someone behind, haven't you?" Warlow said, his tone growing softer. "Someone you love. I know that pain, because I too have someone on the other side. The ones we love are within our reach, so long as you cleanse yourself."

The vampires were struck still as stone as a new presence wandered into their space, both of them struggling for air they hadn't needed. Its energy was stifling, and far more powerful than that of Lilith.

"Speaking nonsense again to the newcomers, are we?" the visitor approached from the left, leaning into one of the tall hedges. "The blood has no ill effects I assure you, Steven, and when the time is right you'll be back home. It will be worth the wait. The next life has so much in store for you both."

Steve gaped at the man standing only a few feet away. He knew it wasn't real; there was no way it could be. The only humans he had seen were just barely alive, and here was his most beloved one, standing just a few feet away. Smiling at him warmly, the way he had always longed to be looked at.

There he was, in all his naked, sun-tanned glory; Newlin's precious human. For a moment he feared the blood had made him begin to hallucinate—but by the look on Warlow's face, he really was in their presence.

Jason Stackhouse hovered between the two vampires, looking each one of them up and down with eyes that did not belong to him. Instead of the deep blue he had grown to love, this Jason had eyes as black as coal. His voice was different too, he realized, as he spoke with an English accent. His voice was wrong, his eyes were wrong, but everything else was right. Perfect even.

The way his hair was mussed on his head, just begging for Steve's fingers to run through it. The crinkle in the corners of his eyes as he smiled, the light stubble that coated his cheeks, and his lips, the sight of which made his dead heart nearly beat again.

To be near him again was everything he had wanted, before and after death. But when he spoke, Steve was reminded that the man before him was not what he seemed. Still, he couldn't help but feel hypnotized by his gaze, as though he, a vampire, was being glamored. Newlin pulled away from the impostors stare and glanced at Warlow. His uneasiness was written all over his face and for once he considered trusting the vampire's intuition.

"By the look on your face, I would've thought you'd just seen a ghost." Jason Stackhouse laughed.

"Close enough. I know you aren't real. No humans here can speak."

"I'm no human, Steven, but I am very much real. Do you need proof?" he asked. He appeared in front of Steve before he could register that Jason had moved. "Touch me."

The words were whispered in the same drawl the real Jason spoke in and his resolve all but melted away.

The man held open his arms and Steve watched as the muscles coiled underneath his sun-kissed skin. It was just as he imagined Jason's body would look, and even if it wasn't the real thing, it would do for now.

His fingers reached out for the bare flesh before him. Steve noticed his fingers trembling as he inched closer, and gasped as his hands were pulled forward and placed on his abdomen.

"See? I'm as real as you are."

"I'll be damned…" the vampire fought to keep control of his wandering hands.

"Out of the two of us, you are most certainly not the one who's been damned." His accent changed again, and Steve could have sworn he sounded angry. The man lifted his chin so that they were eye level. "You're looking a little pale; why don't you go feed? Then I'll give you a warmer welcome than our friend Lilith did."

Steve swallowed hard and thought of all the things the man could have meant. His head was swimming with sounds and images in vivid, obscene detail, the kinds he would have spent hours praying for forgiveness for. Now, he just prayed for the chance to act them out.

The young vampire retreated deeper into the courtyard, losing himself in the mass of humans. The visitor looked on as Newlin began plunging his fangs into the nearest body. He would be kept busy for the time being, knowing the vampire would be drowning himself in blood until he made himself sick. The man had watched him do this countless times and no matter how often he had seen it, it wasn't any less sickening.

His eyes turned toward the caged fairy, Warlow as he'd come to learn, and he had learned too much of the hybrid. Lilith spoke of him for centuries, and even more so after he had died and been sent here. Just like Steven had longed to place his hands on his body, the visitor wished he could do the same with Warlow. The hybrid would not receive gentle caresses, but his hands around his throat, crushing his windpipe.

The half breed was the embodiment of everything he hated.

"We stuck you in the farthest reaches of this place and still you haven't learned." He said. "If it wasn't for Lilith you'd be wasting away in Hell where you belong."

"I could say the same for you." Warlow spat.

He smiled. "Stubborn little halfling. You'll soon see how pointless it is to keep up your tirade. As long as there is blood flowing, that's the only thing their ears will hear. Not your message, or the good intentions you think you have, but the blood that has them right where we need them."

The man stepped away from the cage and shuddered as his body began to tear apart, the pieces of him stretching and reforming into shapes Warlow hadn't seen since he was only a fairy.

Warlow covered his eyes at the sight of his family, the ones he had slaughtered and reduced to dust. His parents looked on through the bars of the cage and spoke as one in his native tongue.

"From the moment you killed your own, there hasn't been a single good thing that you've done. Keeping these vampires from feeding won't help anything. _You_ can't help." They said. "You're useless."

The bodies sidestepped into one another, absorbing flesh and bone until they became one. The familiar Stackhouse took their place.

"When I said earlier that the next life has much in store for you both, I meant it. Newlin may have his own path to follow, but yours will be so much more thrilling without that cage to protect you."

. . .

The being found Newlin in the fields, in the same position he had always seen him in. The little vampire was a greedy one, and he enjoyed the trouble Newlin gave the hybrid. Warlow would have a difficult time recruiting him for his sanguinary detox. It was that way with many of the vampires that passed through here. The blood was better tasting than that of the fae, so he had been told on several occasions. He wouldn't know himself; the man never had a taste for blood, but Newlin had, and he knew his own life force would cement the vampire's addiction. Newlin wouldn't be able to break away from Eden's hold once he had a taste.

"There you are." he said as he approached Newlin from behind. "I've been looking for you. I thought I'd lost you for a moment. Then again, where could you possibly hide?" he looked around. "It's all grass as far as the eye can see."

"You're telling me. I haven't seen much else besides that." Steve wiped his mouth, though the action hadn't done much except smear the red across his lips.

"Would you like me to take you somewhere you can't see?"

Steve's brow arched and as he opened his mouth to question where the dark eyed man could bring him, his hand was snatched and his body dragged away at a speed his own vampire body could not match. The world flew past him in a blur of bright colors, like paint tossed onto a canvas, mixing into indecipherable images. At the peak of his high, the view was as wondrous as the foreign yet familiar body pressed against his.

The pair landed at the mouth of a cave, shrouded in the massive shadow it cast onto the ground. It was the first time Steve had been in the dark since he died. Jason walked toward the opening and Steve let his eyes drag along the muscled expanse of his back, down to his backside that looked good enough to sink his teeth into.

He followed after the man, stepping into the dark of the cave. A dim glow lit a corridor to the left, torches he discovered, that were set along the wall every few feet. The wavering shadow of his body ghosted along the wall, accompanying him on his journey into what seemed like the pits of hell.

Sharp, pointed rocks jut from the ground, making his trek a painful one. The stones dug into his feet, leaving them full of holes and caked with dirt. The narrow hall opened into a large room, bare of furniture, except for a small mattress tucked away in an alcove across from where he stood.

Jason stood in the center of the room, watching him as he tentatively set foot in the darkened space. His eyes glowed in the light of the fire, the flames dancing in his black orbs.

"You're not like the others here." Steve said. "What are you?"

"Whatever you'd like me to be." he answered. "From what I can tell, this is the form that makes you feel at ease the most. Is this man a friend of yours?"

The man asked the question solely to carry on the conversation. He was well aware of what the young vampire felt for the human he masqueraded as, and he intended to take advantage of that.

"Something like that." Steve nodded.

"We all miss something or someone from our past lives. Would it make you feel more comfortable for me to remain this way in your company?" the man asked. "I think I might know the answer to that already."

A small smile graced his lips. "Am I that easy to figure out?"

"Most of you are. I've developed a knack for figuring out you creatures. It's like I can read your minds." Jason said. "And yours happens to be full of filth."

His eyes widened. "I—"

Jason waved his hand in dismissal. "No need for denial or justification, my friend. You've been fairly isolated since your arrival. I can understand your...longing."

Steve glanced down as Jason walked toward him. _Speaking of long_, he thought.

"My role is to make your stay more enjoyable, and I'm certain I can do that for you." Jason said. "You've been staring me down long enough. Why not give into temptation?"

Steve wanted nothing more than to give in and throw away what little restraint he had left. The urge to overtake the man before him was stronger than his desire to feed. Steve could forgo ever tasting the human's blood again, so long as he was able to taste him.

"Temptation...you sound like the Devil." Steve found it hard to speak as the distance was closed between the two. Jason wrapped his arms around the smaller man's frame and held him close.

"Do I now?" he smiled. Steve could feel the heat of Jason's breath on his face. "Then let me show you a few of my favorite sins."

* * *

If he didn't know better, Alcide would have sworn Sookie was a vampire with how fast she came down the stairs. In all the time the two had been together, not once did she show even a fraction of that excitement when he walked through the door. Alcide could have been gone for more than a week on a job, and when the wolf set foot in the door, a smile and a 'Welcome back' was all he got. He always pushed the thought aside, but it was clearer than ever now that he could never compete with Sookie's vamps.

Eric and Bill would always share the number one spot in her heart while, somehow, he was still in the lowly third place. Alcide watched from the bottom of the stairs as Sookie pawed over the Viking, hugging and pressing her body against his so close he thought she might meld into him. The Were soon noticed that the excitement was one sided.

Eric Northman struggled to keep the smile plastered on his face. Any other time he would have been more than delighted to be in the company of his beloved fairy; the last few months spent in hiding were emotionally taxing, and the only smiles he could muster, he saved them for Pam. She had come searching for him when no one else did. The least he could do was smile for her, the same mischievous smirk he knew she loved.

Now wasn't the time for smiles and he hadn't meant for the sudden visit to turn into a happy reunion. It was only a stop along the way as he set out to find the last remaining Newlin. Eric wanted to see her face more than just behind his eyes when he bed down for the day, and often during the night the past few weeks. He even considered bringing the fairy along; she was a liability, from the very start, but time and time again she proved herself useful.

Though, after abandoning both Pam, he knew better than to involve her. He wanted his last moments to be spent with his progeny. An intrusion would only further separate the two.

So he continued on his charade, ignoring the woeful dog seated on the steps, skillfully dodging the woman's questions regarding his whereabouts. Northman had lost much of his abilities, but diversion and charm were as strong as ever. The Viking faltered finally when her hands grazed the hem of his shirt.

Sookie tentatively pulled down the fabric of Eric's shirt, gazing at the black tendrils that spread across his chest in disbelief. This was Eric—_her_ Eric—confident, cocky, and damn near invincible, now a shell of his former self.

Her eyes welled, and she shut them, blinking away the tears and the sight of the weakened man before her. Sookie wanted to believe that the stress she felt was getting the better of her, but the pain in his eyes only confirmed what she wanted so terribly to deny.

Deep down she knew that this was the reality of being a vampire in the world today. There was no way of knowing who carried Hep V, and refraining from feeding was as risky as feeding itself. It was inevitable that someone she knew would become afflicted with the virus.

Sookie never believed it would be him.

"How long have you had it?" she asked, never taking her eyes off of his blackened veins.

"A few months now. It only recently started to spread."

She shook her head. "When you disappeared, I thought you had died, and now…I'm not sure which is worse."

_I almost wish he could have just died. _Sookie would have never said that aloud, and she hated herself for thinking it, but a quick death would have been much better than suffering for months on end with no hope of finding a cure.

"I'm just glad to have you back. For however long you plan on staying." Sookie said. Out of the corner of her eye she could see Alcide visibly deflating. His shoulders seemed to droop lower and lower every time she looked back at him. "But I'm sure it won't be long, you're always scheming up something."

"You know me so well."

"Is that why you're here, to drag Sookie on some suicide mission?" Alcide asked. "I won't let her go with you. It's too dangerous."

"I thought dogs were supposed to obey their masters, not the other way around." Eric said, goading the wolf. Alcide growled. "Weak as I may be, if I wanted her, I could take her. I'm sure you'll be happy to know that I'm not in need of Sookie's help."

Now it was Sookie's turn to deflate. "Then why come here?"

"Because I may very well be the one on a suicide mission. I wanted to see my girl in the white dress one last time, before a human, or my disease, finally killed me."

She frowned. "I'll be here if you do need me. Anything to get out of here."

"I'll keep that in mind. I think you might be better than me now at pulling the truth out of people."

"I don't know, you're still pretty intimidating to me."

"You flatter me, Sookie Stackhouse." Eric backed away onto the porch. His eyes stared past her at Alcide. "Keep her safe."

The door closed and the couple stood quietly in the foyer, both of them lost in their thoughts. Sookie smelled a fight, judging by the way Alcide glared at the floor and breathed heavily. He was angry, and he had every right to be.

Alcide had treated her better than either vampire had, making her feel less like a tool ready to be used and discarded when they saw fit, and more like a woman. Normal, and deserving of respect, but he still couldn't make her feel the same way about him. But he could put those feelings aside for the moment.

"_Anything to get out of here_?" Alcide said. "Do you know how many times I've offered to drop everything and go? Every time I asked you to leave, there was always something holding you back. The house, your brother, this town…but for Eric you'll pack up and leave?"

"Alcide, he's dying, he might need my help."

"He's going to die either way. He said it himself; whether it's a human or the Hep V, Eric is gone. But we don't have to die. We can get out of here and live the rest of our lives without having to worry about some pack of rabid fangers ripping us apart. Don't you want that?"

Sookie remained silent.

"Do I mean anything to you?" Alcide asked, and turned his back on Sookie, heading up the stairs to their room. He closed the door quietly, and Sookie cringed harder than she would have if he had slammed the door.

She always knew that when someone was so angry they got quiet, it was bad.

* * *

The road seemed never ending. For every few feet he traveled, the path stretched on one hundred more. Ahead of him only darkness awaited as the sun hovered over the horizon, saying its last goodbyes before plunging down and leaving Jason's corner of the world shrouded in darkness. The only thing keeping the infected at bay was the last bit of light, a fading orange hue that cast over the trees and the road. All he could see were the trees.

It was like nothing else existed here. No homes, no animals; only the plants and the withered asphalt to keep him company as he drove toward nothing. Jason checked his cellphone for the fifth time in the last two minutes, aggravated to find that he was still without service. This would be a poor place to be stranded in, especially after sundown. He knew he could always retreat into the woods, but that would mean giving in to the monster that Crystal made him. Jason couldn't do that. No matter how much his body craved it.

The aches had grown stronger with each passing moment he denied himself what he needed most. A fever, the likes of which he hadn't felt since he was a child, burned at his flesh. His shirt was near drenched by the time he saw the first sign in miles.

The words were spray painted on a large sheet of metal—the back of another sign he presumed—held up by mildewed wooden boards.

"Do not enter." he mumbled. "What's there to enter? Nothin' here but woods."

The gaps between the tall trunks were an invitation he fought hard to pass on. Jason's bones felt as though they were breaking, struggling to reshape and change him from man to beast. It became difficult to focus on the road. Between the pain and the fire in his veins, Jason couldn't focus. The least he could do was cool himself off a bit, and with one hand began to hastily undo the buttons on his shirt.

His knee took over for him and kept the truck going in the right direction while he tossed his shirt into the back seat, and with his other hand, rolled the window down.

"That's—fuck." Jason cried as the truck plowed into an unseen object.

Jason's body flung through the windshield into a dense grove of trees, his spine smacking off of the thick trunk. Glass sprayed around him, small shards embedded into his skin as he rolled onto the dirt. The Were struggled to move, only managing to roll onto his side before being overcome with pain.

He glanced at the truck. The front had caved in and Jason couldn't imagine what could have caused the wreck. For miles the road had been empty, and to cause damage that bad, he would have had to drive directly into the woods.

Jason turned over onto his back and stared up at the sky. The sun was all but gone and if he didn't find a way to get out of here, he would be live bait for whatever vampires happened to be wandering out in the woods, provided he was still alive and kicking by that point.

His muscles turned rigid as the leaves crunched somewhere around him. Jason's eyes scrunched closed and he silently prayed that whatever was there wouldn't find him. He'd risk dying alone before letting himself become fodder for vamps, or backwoods swamp people.

The sound was louder, closer, and he couldn't help but look around. His eyes were met with small black ones that he'd become far too familiar with.

The scarred buck stood over his aching body and snorted as the Were laid there. He pound his hooves into the earth, kicking up dirt onto Jason's scratched up face.

Jason groaned while his temperature continued to climb. He would lose consciousness soon, Jason knew that, with no one to help him but this damned animal.

How many times had he killed the deer in his dreams? And here it was, watching him while he withered away.

. . .

Jason's hands wrapped around Maudette's throat, squeezing the column of flesh ever tighter until his fingers began to overlap. She wheezed and writhed beneath him as he thrust harder, too preoccupied with the sound of skin against skin to notice the redness in her face. He watched as her skin rippled with each clash of their bodies and only when he felt her slump against him did he pause to address her.

"Spent already? I thought you vamp lovers could take a lot more than that." Jason quipped, pulling his hands away from her neck.

He turned Maudette's face toward his own and recoiled. Her eyes were dull and lifeless, throat marred with the outline of his fingers. Jason's heart hammered in his chest—there was no way he could have killed her, he'd only held his hands there for a minute.

"Shit." he cursed, slapping the woman's cheeks to awaken her. Maudette failed to respond, her head lolling to the side with each strike of his palm against her face. "Oh, you've gotta be fuckin' kidding me. This is not happening."

Jason scrambled around the room, snatching up his belongings and hastily wiping down any surface he might have touched. Of all the bad things he'd done, Jason never imagined murder would wind up on his laundry list of sins. He wouldn't let himself get caught.

Maudette was a fang banger. It was only a matter of time before one of those blood suckers killed her, and he prayed that's what the police would chalk this up to. Death by vampire, not Jason Stackhouse.

He made a beeline for the door, his hand covered with his boxers as he gripped the door knob. It wouldn't budge. Jason breathed deeply in an attempt to calm himself. His hands trembled while he tried the door again, achieving the same result. He was ready to ram himself into the door when a shrill cackle stopped him in his tracks.

"Jason Stackhouse, what have you gotten yourself into this time?" Maudette called from across the room. "Instead of fucking them, now you've taken to choking whores in your spare time? I'm not one to judge, but the least you could do is be a little more creative if you plan to take up murder as an extracurricular activity."

The woman morphed into something ungodly. Her otherwise pretty face had become sunken like a corpse, cheek bones straining against her translucent skin. Maudette's eyes darkened and bore into his own, rooting Stackhouse to the spot. He couldn't tear his eyes away from her no matter how hard he tried. Even though her hands were strung up, she had a grip on him that he couldn't break free from.

"I ain't no murderer." Jason said weakly.

"Of course not, sweetheart. You're just a troubled boy taking out his aggression on weak women. It was the next step for you naturally, the way you used women. They're nothing but objects to you, aren't they?"

"No, I love women. With everything I have."

"That's what you keep telling yourself, no? You're a stud with an insatiable lust...or are you drowning yourself in women to hide the fact you desire the other sex?" Maudette suggested. "It's a small town, people talk—perfectly understandable that you'd hold up this act for so long. I mean, who would want to endure the same treatment your buddy Lafayette goes through?"

She laughed at him. "Imagine how people would treat you once they discovered what you are. A Were, and a faggot? I almost feel sorry for you."

"I'm not gay. You don't know what the hell you're talking about."

"I most certainly do. I know more about you than you do yourself, and even more about what's in your future, Jason. Your shame will be the end of you if you don't learn to accept what you are. And only when you've done so fully will you be strong enough to survive. The weak do not last long in times of peril."

To say he was confused would have been an understatement. Jason knew he'd have to come to terms with being a panther eventually, it was only harming him in the long run to repress his inner beast.

"He'll need you to be strong. When he returns, it will be you he relies on, and your weakness could kill you both. They're coming." she said, and inhaled sharply as though she had just surfaced after being underwater for too long. Her body trembled. Maudette's face fell slack and her mouth hung open wide. She continued to speak in a strangled whisper. "They're close."

Smoke burned his nostrils, awaking Jason from his dream. His head whipped around, searching for the source of the fire and found it raging before him. The pyre climbed high into the night sky, the flames licking up toward the stars, and in the heart of the fire was his truck.

Jason's body was farther from the vehicle than he remembered being, and there was no way he could have moved himself. Someone had to have dragged him away for it was still too painful for him to move.

He looked around. Just a few feet away, a small group of people watched Jason curiously as he pulled himself up, bracing his body against a tree. The bark dug into his skin and he cringed as it tugged the glass sticking out from his back.

"Ain't you gonna help?" Jason asked. "I'm struggling over here."

They came closer, at a pace faster than the expected. Jason quickly realized they were vampires, the bright light revealing their fangs and the black veins that spread across their skin. He moved faster, trying to distance himself from the infected. Weak or not, there were enough to overpower him, especially in the state he was in.

Instinct set in and the pull the shift became stronger. His body was fighting to change, and he almost let it; he'd have a better chance of protecting himself that way, but instead of giving in, he drew from the adrenaline the beast provided him.

Jason clambered to his feet and reached blindly for a branch, anything that could have been used as a stake. The vampires wasted no time in closing in, surrounding Jason as he tore at the higher branches. They hissed and swiped at his body, leaving bloody tracks across his stomach. The Were cussed and drove the jagged tip of the branch into the chest of the vampire. Blood spurt from the corpse as it burst and Jason covered his eyes and mouth, shielding his extremities from the tainted blood.

He growled as a hand wrapped around his throat, lifting him high into the air. His feet dangled and he kicked wildly, catching the vampire in the jaw. Jason pried the undead woman's fingers from his neck and drove his fist into her chest, feeling his skin scrape against her ribs before she dissolved around him.

Drenched in red, Jason whirled around and grabbed the fallen branch, lurching toward the final vampire and impaling him.

Thunder crackled overhead, the rumbling shaking the ground beneath his feet. Rain dripped through the canopy and washed over him, cleaning the blood from his skin. Jason held out his arms and let the mix of his and the vampire's blood run from his flesh and onto the ground.

He dropped to his knees in the muck and sat in the heavy rain, his fever dying down finally. Jason exhaled and closed his eyes. Finding a way home was the last thing on his mind. All he wanted was sleep.

* * *

Lightning plunged from the sky into the ground, sending a cloud of rock and dirt into the air, scattering across the clearing like shrapnel. As the dust cleared, one by one they emerged from the point of impact, stepping out from the crater and onto the soft, green grass.

Three women poised around the hole, observing the area they had desecrated with their arrival. The explosion had cut away chunks of wood from the nearby trees, the first of many things to be destroyed and mangled beyond recognition. They exchanged satisfied smiles and breathed in the air, heavy with the scent of rain. It had been far too long since either of them had set foot here, and they each agreed with the dark haired one's words:

"It's good to be back."


	5. Chapter 5

**I apologize for the long wait, I haven't had much time to write lately but I'm hoping I can start updating more. **

* * *

The succubi crowded around the monolith positioned in the courtyard directly across from the hotel's front doors. A cracked plaque bore the name of the stone faced man, the founder of this very hotel, and thanked him quietly for making their night easier. The three women faced the illuminated facade of the Sauveterre Hotel. Its open doors released the stench of desperation and testosterone, and it drew them forth like flies to a pile of shit.

Naamah, Agrat, and Mahalath entered the bar. Cigarette smoke hovered near the ceiling, the hotel's own cancerous ozone. The succubi ventured deeper into the lion's den, where traveling accountants and unfaithful men skulked around their upscale hunting ground.

Dozens of eyes bore into the three women, dragging down their smooth, dark skin like imagined fingertips. The lazy rise and fall of their eyes would be the closest the men would come to enjoying their bodies, crafted by the Devil's hand just for them. The attention hadn't disgusted the women; they reveled in the heated stares and the tension that came with looking, but not being able to touch.

And tangible they were, though it was their combined energy that created something fearsome, the only thing that instilled restraint in the men. Agrat led her group forward and walked through the parted crowd toward a table near the back. Stares had not ceased and it was only a matter of time before someone approached. She was never one to actively pursue her prey—she always waited for the hapless souls to ensnare themselves in her web.

The 'you-go-first' attitude the humans carried had always been amusing to Naamah. They were quick to sacrifice one of their own to test the waters, see what would happen upon approaching the beast. In all the years she had been alive, she still wasn't able to discern whether it made the proffered human foolish, or brave. She supposed it was a bit of both and watched idly while they huddled together to discuss who would be the martyr, all in the name of lust.

Out of the cologne smelling mass had come the new martyrs, in threes—a victim for each of them. It pleased the women how eager they were, for neither of them had wanted to wait for their meal. Centuries of imprisonment in the void their master had made for them left them without access to the human world, and subsequently, without sustenance. Without blood. An ocean's worth wouldn't satiate their thirst.

The heady scent the men carried only fueled the fire raging within them. Their years had gifted them with restraint, but the longer their prey lingered there, the less they were able to conceal the wolf underneath the sheep's skin.

Hidden hands cracked and deformed beneath the cover of the sticky tabletop. The bones lengthened into spindly claws, curling and digging into their own paling skin. Mahalath was the first to suggest they go elsewhere, leave the relative protection the hotel gave them. She considered staying there briefly and leaving the bodies behind for the police to find.

Maybe they would appreciate the cruel irony; mass murder in a building whose founder's surname roughly translated to "safe haven." She couldn't help but crack a smile.

The three women exchanged knowing glances and in one swift movement, slid out from behind the table. Across the room the door slammed shut on its own—panic spread throughout the room, talk of vampires filled their ears, though the undead were nowhere to be found. Humans pried at the door's handles, twisting and turning the knobs every which way and pounding on the glass.

No one would hear them. The hotel was empty but for those few that insisted on spending their nights out in the open instead of with their families, just as the reporter on the TV was suggesting.

Agrat turned the volume up as the young blonde introduced a policeman, Officer Something-or-Other, and waved her hand at the screen.

"They're not wrong; you humans most certainly should have remained in your homes." Agrat said, her voice smooth despite not having been in use. "Protecting your wives and children, like real men. But you aren't real men, are you? You're selfish heathens."

Naamah stood beside her sister. "And you'll die like heathens, just as you deserve. Your tainted blood will paint these old walls and deliver a message to the rest of your ilk."

"The Master is returning, and he needs fresh blood."

The doors opened then and out poured the horde, scrambling across the courtyard like frightened rodents. Agrat and her sisters were quick to catch up to the humans, snagging them with yellowed claws and ripping them down to the damp earth. The sound of car engines roaring to life, one after another, filled their ears as they punctured trembling flesh.

Naamah dug her fingers into the meaty flesh of her prey's throat. The fatty skin enveloped her hand as she wound her digits around his vocal cords and tugged upward. His eyes pleaded for her to stop and a strangled cry for God left his lips before she tore the tissue from its home. The meat hung limply in the palm of her hand, warm and sticky, and she chewed while he watched. Sloppily eating, bits of skin stuck to the corner of her mouth, sliding down her chin in a rivulet of blood and saliva.

Her thick, dark hair became matted with blood as she ate. Naamah slurped the last bit of rubbery flesh and turned to his chest, prying skilled fingers into his convulsing torso. Her fingertips slid beneath his ribs and pried them open, the meat and bone coming away easily, sounding like a ripe melon being torn in half.

The smell of hot blood permeated the air. The demon dove into her nameless victim's cavities, plucking organs from their places. Greedily feasting and wasting the precious sinew as it dropped to the ground at her feet.

Their faces were covered in gristle and satisfied smiles. The succubi shrieked and howled into the night sky, a primal display of their joy and the blood induced delirium.

Rustling in the tree line near the edge of the lot ceased their cries. Simultaneously their heads turned toward the sound and they crouched on the ground like feral animals, snarling and hovering over their spoils.

Agrat stiffened as the unwelcomed beings encroached on their temporary territory. A small cluster of dark-veined vampires stepped into the small circle of light the street lamp provided.

Their lips curled in revulsion at the sight of the mutilated bodies, but it wasn't enough to drive them away. The Hep V would make them eat anything so long as the blood was fresh and clean, and the bodies the strange looking women horded contained just what they had been looking for.

"We don't want any trouble. We just smelled the blood." A short female stepped forward. She was lanky and in between poorly done tattoos, her infected veins were just beginning to become noticeable.

"All we wanna do is feed—same as you. So...are there more of them 'round here?" And older male asked. "Y'know, humans. Live ones."

A month ago he wouldn't have had to ask that question. A simple sniff at the air and within seconds he would be able to locate the nearest beating heart. But the Hep had taken that gift away from him and would only continue to strip off everything that had set him above the humans. Now, he had to rely on the word of these psychotic bitches to find his next meal. They looked like they had been on a bath salt binge, all wide-eyed and snarling.

The man turned to the rest of his group, Nick and Jane, and silently decided to turn tail and run. There was no telling what they were capable of, and he was sure neither of them would be able to handle the women.

"Maybe we should go. Enjoy your...dinner."

Agrat rose. "Why leave? There is more than enough blood for you all to lap up from the ground."

The demon waved her sisters away from the corpses. The trio stepped aside to allow the vampires access to the still flowing blood. Tentatively, the infected took their places beside the bodies and began drinking from the folds of the deceased's skin.

The vampires groaned as they fed and the fresh blood passed through their lips. It was the first clean blood they had come across in over a week. It seemed like every human was becoming infected with Hep V, and it was spreading faster through them than the undead. The humans were lucky the disease didn't make them suffer, not directly; any vamp that found them would surely make them feel the wrath of the Vampire race as a whole.

The succubi each felt their hunger return as they watched the hunched over creatures suck the corpses dry. Their thirst for blood was palpable and roiling their insides until it became almost impossible to restrain themselves. Mahalath was the first to lunge at them, tackling the waifish female and digging her nails deep into the flesh of her throat.

Jane writhed on the ground underneath Mahalath's weight, screaming for the others to come to her aid. Her pleas came through as garbled syllables while her mouth was flooded with tainted blood. The Vampire coughed and sputtered, too weak to shake the demon from her body. Mahalath began to peel away at her skin, shredding thin pieces away from her small muscles and reveling in their regrowth.

The more Mahalath took, the more grew back, fresher and tastier than before. Her sisters took notice and fled after the others in search of their own never-ending meal. The girl shrieked in pain, something the succubus paid no mind to—instead, she thought of Lilith and the punishment they would all face for dining on her children's flesh.

Mahalath cackled. Whatever would come their way would be worth it.

* * *

Violet's ears were bleeding. It had to have been well into the morning. Jason wasn't sure how much longer she could keep this up. If his wounds weren't healed she wouldn't be able to feed, and whether she believed his story or not, Violet wouldn't let go of her only source of clean blood.

Or so he thought.

The blood bloomed around him on the fresh sheets, spreading out from his torso to the sides of the bed. Jason wished he could follow the trail, up and out of the bed, out of the basement and away from the home that wasn't his anymore. Violet had turned it into a prison, and she didn't try to deny it either; upon bringing him home from the spot where he was positive he would die, the old vampire let him know he wouldn't be leaving anymore.

Unless Jason told her the truth. Which he had, countless times, and each relaying of the night's events seemed to make her believe him less and less. Jason must have sworn on his sister's life at least fifteen times in the last ten minutes, and Violet was all too eager to hear that Sookie had suddenly turned up dead.

"I told you again and again—and I ain't lyin'." Jason groaned. "I went out for a drive, a deer ran out in the road and I swerved. Hit the damn tree and passed out. Glamor me if you have to, I won't be able to lie to you then."

Violet smiled at him. "That would be taking the easy way out, my dear. I want you to come clean on your own. So why won't you be honest with me?"

Jason scowled. Between her and Sookie, he didn't know which one of them had asked for the same thing. The only one he hadn't been entirely honest with was his sister, and for good reason. Once she discovered how bad things were between him and his lovely girlfriend, Sookie would be on a war path. He was already in over his head with this woman. Jason wouldn't let his sister suffer the same fate.

"Help me and I'll tell you everything you wanna hear. I promise you." Jason said. The pain was unbearable. "The pain might be makin' my memory all fuzzy."

She raised an eyebrow at him and raced across the room. In seconds, Violet appeared in his lap, her knees digging painfully into the bruises on his sides. The Vampire watched him as he fought not to cringe, but she knew he was hurting; his muscles twitched beneath her with each shift of her hips and brush of her bones against his broken ones. Violet flashed her fangs at him.

The Vampire laughed quietly as he cringed at the sound. It was nauseating, hearing her teeth tear through her gums. The little click was louder than ever, and he guessed it was the pain making him more sensitive. Jason pressed his head farther down into the pillow, his face disappearing behind a wall of synthetic stuffing. The pillow may have blocked his view of her, but she was still there, as much as he tried to pretend she wasn't.

Violet slit the tip of her thumb and squeezed, letting the small red bubble drip down her finger. She held the digit over Jason's mouth, allotting him just enough to heal most of his wounds.

"That's just a taste." Violet said. "Tell me what you were really doing and you'll get more. Continue to lie to me and I'll show you what happens to dishonest people."

"How can I tell you anything if, no matter what I say, you won't believe me?" Jason asked, exasperated. "I'm not running around on you if that's what you think. I've always been yours, and only yours."

The panther felt himself deflate as he finished speaking. Soon enough, he was going to have to end this before she killed him.

"Your sweet talking is always appreciated, but not now. I want you to tell me where you were going."

"I was just taking a drive to clear—"

"Lies!" Violet lurched off of the bed and grabbed Jason's ankle. She tugged him toward the edge of the bed. "Where were you _really _going, back to that bitch that turned you? That Were whore?"

"No." Jason shouted, reaching out for Violet to try and stop her. "I wasn't."

"You were trying to run away from me. I'll make sure you never run again." Violet seethed.

The Vampire tightened her grip on his leg and yanked his foot. The appendage dangled as the tendons tore from the bone. His toes could almost touch the back of his calf muscle. Jason screamed. His pain only urged her on.

Violet moved up Jason's body to his face. His mouth was fixed in a wide gape as strangled sounds forced their way out of his throat. Jason's eyes were red and rimmed with tears. She felt no pity.

Her fingers reached into his mouth for his liar's tongue and grasped the tip tightly. Jason mumbled something around her hand—a "No" or "Please don't"—but Violet ignored him. With her free hand, she tore the pink muscle like paper and dropped the fleshy nub on his chest.

"All you had to do was tell me the truth." She said evenly, looking over her lover's convulsing form. Violet was pleased with her work and hoped he learned from this. If he hadn't, she'd teach him until he did.

She let him lay there in agony for several minutes, and several more as she saw the display on his phone light up. Violet picked up the device and entered his passcode, viewing the half dozen missed calls from his sister and the redhead Vampire. They'd left messages, long ones, and she decided for him that he didn't need to hear them. She cleared the messages from his phone and dropped it on the bed.

Violet broke the skin on her thumb once more and let the blood pour into his mouth.

It mixed with his own and Jason didn't want to swallow anymore. He gagged on the hot, red fluid as it swirled around his mouth. Jason could feel his tongue regrow and fill the gap in his mouth. The rest of his wounds followed suit, the worst being his foot; Violet had propped the limp limb up against her thigh while the muscles reattached. The feeling was strange, and the ghost of his trauma still lingered after his body had been repaired.

His tongue still stung and his breathing was still shallow, as though the bones were still cracked and digging into his lungs. Jason lifted himself up against the headboard, trying to place as much distance between himself and Violet as possible. She perched on the edge of the bed and smiled at him.

Jason wanted to cut the smile from her face and promised himself that he would.

"It's been a long night, don't you think? We should get some sleep."

. . .

Jason waited an hour before daring to leave the room. Violet was fast asleep and hadn't stirred when he slid off the bed and out of the basement they shared. He crept up the stairs and into his old room. Jason sifted through his closet for a ratty duffel bag, one of the few reminders he had left of his high school glory days.

"Thank god I saved all this shit." Jason said to himself. "Woulda been using garbage bags otherwise."

Jason pulled his clothes out from his drawers and hastily stuffed them into the bag, taking along with him anything of value. The panther crammed nearly everything except for his mattress into the bag and hadn't bothered to close the zipper before heading out the door.

As Jason opened the trunk of the police cruiser he stared at his home. His parent's home. That he violated by bringing in a Vampire. He considered setting the house on fire then, cleansing the land of her evil. No one would care. A few weeks ago it may have been considered murder, but not then. It was justified killing.

"The Lord's work." He muttered. Jason checked his phone and thought about calling before he showed up at his sister's doorstep covered in blood. She'd be a wreck either way, and he didn't feel like wasting the time. He couldn't help but feel surprised, disappointed even, as his call history was blank. Since this all went down, Sookie made a habit of phoning him at least once a day to check in.

An engine roared nearby. Jason's ears perked up and he followed the source of the noise, coming to a stop at the end of his driveway. A truck raced down the road, heading in his direction, and he recognized it immediately.

It was Alcide's work truck.

The vehicle screeched to a halt and out of the passenger's side came Sookie, running toward him with open arms. Jason returned the hug, not caring that he was smearing her clothes with blood. He was just happy to see her.

Sookie hugged him tightly. "What the fuck happened to you, Jason? Jessica called me before, she said there was something wrong."

"Really wrong by the looks of it." Alcide said. "Who did this to you?"

Jason looked back at the house, toward the basement windows that had been blacked out. For all he knew, Violet was standing there listening. He wanted to tell them—and he would—but not until he was away from that forsaken house.

"Alright," Sookie said, "let's get you home. After you shower, when you're ready, we'll talk. But you have to be honest with me, okay?"

Jason scowled. "Yeah. I'll tell you everything, Sook. I promise."

This time he meant it.

* * *

Sookie's tub was thoroughly stained by the time he finished showering. Jason would have to scrub the porcelain as much as he had his own skin to rid the white surface of its red streaks. He'd do it later; Jason wasn't sure his body was capable of much more than dressing, and besides walking downstairs to sit with his sister and Alcide, that's all he planned on doing. There were several hours of daylight left and he was going to savor every last bit of the relative comfort that gave him.

Sookie knocked softly on the door, trying her best not to startle her brother. She might not have known the full story, but Jason's thoughts broadcasted loud and clear during the ride home. Whatever had gone down before she got there and rattled him to his core. Not since their parent's death had she seen him this shaken up. Sookie couldn't imagine what had happened, she didn't want to, but she had her ideas. And if she knew better, she'd keep them to herself for now.

Jason opened the door and sat back down on the lid of the toilet and continued to towel dry his hair. He looked better without all the blood on him, but better might have been an overstatement. Jason still managed to look just as haggard, albeit clean. Sookie was surprised he actually managed to get all the blood off his skin.

"The blood on your clothes…Alcide said that was all yours."

Jason nodded. "Mhm. It was."

"How badly were you hurt?" Sookie asked. It was a dumb question, she knew it, but she wanted to find out as much as she could.

"How badly do you think? I could have bled out if I wasn't healed." Jason said. "I don't think I ever got fucked up that bad."

"By who?"

He sighed. "At first…it was the accident. Then a couple infected vamps. Then…"

"Violet." Sookie said. "She did this to you, didn't she?"

"Yeah, she did. The blood…you're lucky that's all you saw." Jason said quietly. "I witnessed death after death living in this goddamn town, but what she did…it was sicker than anything I'd ever seen."

Sookie placed her hand on his shoulder to comfort him and gasped as the raw, harrowing memories came flooding into her own mind. Visions of torture flashed in front of her eyes. Endless fights and verbal lashings, all right under her nose. She knew something was off about his relationship with Violet, but never suspected how bad.

Her eyes welled and threatened to spill over. How could she have been so stupid, so unaware of the horror her brother faced? Sookie looked away from Jason and wiped the tears from her eyes, vowing to put an end to that psychopath's life.

She rubbed his arm. "I know it probably doesn't mean much, but you're healed now; your body's fixed. Alcide and I…we'll help you get better. Sad doesn't look good on you, Jason."

"Thank you." Jason looked up at her. "You're all I got…and I really don't wanna go back there."

"You always have a place here. This was your home too, remember?" Sookie backed out of the bathroom. "Finish up and we'll get you fed. Sound good?"

"Definitely. I haven't had a meal in…shit, I don't know how long."

She smiled. "I'm sure you've built up an appetite then. I'll see you downstairs."

The door closed quietly and Jason slumped over, his head hidden by the damp towel. It felt nice to return to a sense of normalcy, but nothing good ever seemed to last in Bon Temps. How long before everything went to hell again?


End file.
